


Workplace Intrigue

by glittergrenade



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is obsessive, Busy Padmé Amidala, But not in a creepy way, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Persistent Anakin Skywalker, Secret Marriage Problems, Uncomfortable situation, made up redic alien name, okay kinda in a creepy way but who's counting, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 00:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittergrenade/pseuds/glittergrenade
Summary: Why can't Ani understand that Padmé hasworkto do?





	Workplace Intrigue

_From Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, to Ambassador Lord Corel Yezee Noï of Kyrwl of the Outer Rim, greetings,_ Padmé wrote elegantly with a silver ink pen. There was no need of course, since she was only drafting, but Padmé liked to make even her planning look neat. It made it all easier to look through, especially with the long names and titles; so that even though she was on a tight schedule, she honestly believed it saved her time in the longer run. She read the address aloud to herself under her breath, trying to come up with how best to proceed.

Presently a knock sounded at the door, and Padmé nodded vaguely, without looking up. "Come in."

A creaking noise told her that the door opened, and soon after a familiar voice came to her ears. "That sounds very smooth, Senator. Any rational ambassador would be enamored by your appellations."

She looked up, fighting a look of dry amusement at his come on. Anakin was standing in the doorway with a slight smirk on his face. He was wearing his Jedi cloak, but his hands wrapped it around him so all she could see was his beshadowed eyes and the glint of his teeth. The look was somewhat odious, dark. But she liked it on him. When they were alone that is; maybe it was instinct, but Padmé found his stance suspicious. "What is it, Ani?" she got directly to the point.

Anakin's smirk widened. "You work too hard, is all." Pushing the door gently shut, he unwrapped the carefully positioned brown cloak. He undid the clasp and let it fall to the floor.

Padmé let out a gasp she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. Under the cloak, her husband was completely naked. His toned skin was smooth, its charming blemishes familiar; and the defined tone of his abs glinted in the glow her desk light. Was he waxing? Anakin had never been hairy as long as she had known him, but he looked particularly shiny today. His legs were separated at a slight angle, his package unabashedly springy for action.

Padmé took only a few moments to recover herself. He was the most gorgeous man she knew, and although it felt like time froze with her need to take in the familiar shock of hotness, she knew it hadn't been long at all as she felt all the blood in her head rush down below her naval. Then she wrinkled her brow, glancing forcefully back at her papers. Her face was definitely red. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, honey?" Lively, Anakin stepped towards her, abandoning his Jedi cloak on the floor like he'd abandoned his Jedi vows when they'd first begun their relationship. Scratch that, he'd probably broken them long before then, in some way or another. He always made them out to be pointlessly over-complicated. But Padmé needed her mind to stop wandering. She lifted her eyes purposely to his face — _face_ — to stop them from wandering, too. It was game over if she let him turn her on like this; besides, it was difficult to fully enjoy being with him when she knew in her conscious mind she had a lot of work to do, and this _was_ important work, for the Republic, Jedi or no.

Anakin didn't seem to realize this however (or at least, didn't care). He closed the distance between them and kissed her on the mouth, entwining his fingers in her lavish hairstyle, and ever so slightly rubbing his uncovered manhood up against her gown. Padmé bit her tongue sharply to keep her body from reacting, but she breathed into the kiss all the same, her arm instinctively moving to caress his back. But then common sense got the better of her and she pulled away, struggling in a wave of frustration to fix up her hair, trying to ignore the way he made her feel when his beautiful golden eyes were fixed upon her.

"Hey," Anakin touched her waist, but she shook her head, sitting back at her desk.

"Sorry, Ani, but now's not a good time. Senator Organa said he'd come by my office around three to proofread this over with me." She fiddled with her hair, trying to fix it back up from Anakin's messing.

"Three? Then there's time yet," Anakin pointed out, massaging her shoulder blades gently. "We have lots of time. Honey, I want you. Don't you want me too?" He rested his chin on her _carefully_ arranged hair and almost whispered his next words. "Take me on the desk, Padmé. I'm yours to do with as you will." He arranged his body in a way meticulously designed to be lusted for, leant against the edge of her desk and biting his lower lip with a sex-filled stare.

"That's nice, Ani," it was as dispassionate a time as she could manage, "but — can you get some clothes on?" She tensed against his breath, frustrated at how successful he was at making her heart race (making her _horny_ ), annoyed both at him and herself for trying to let her emotions dictate her. "Really, I need to get work done before he's here." Maybe she preferred to take her time, but she did good work; she didn't want to let that reputation down for this.

"I'll help you," Anakin offered, straightening out to wrap an arm around her shoulder. She watched him as he crinkled his nose, pretending to think hard. It was painfully cute when he did that. She doubted he comprehended the political jargon alone of half the stacked documents. He was also, of course, still painfully naked. Padmé couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, don't stress it. We each have our strengths. I'm a senator, I write diplomatic letters. You… well, you…" she hesitated, teasing him by acting like she couldn't think of his specialty.

"Ha ha. Like you don't know your mighty Jedi Knight, here to save you from this boredom, my lady." He nuzzled his lips around her ear.

"You're highly competent when it comes to looking cute," Padmé decided. She was used to Anakin's relative under-appreciation of her work; to be fair, he could go on about his deeply radical political ideas if she'd get him talking. It was a good thing he wasn't the senator among them. Not that he seemed interested in government right now.

"Oh, I can do much more than look." Anakin's fingers started at the laces of her dress.

Padmé pulled away suddenly, his direct action in conflict with her repeated insistence the straw that broke the tauntaun's back, that made her seriousness bigger than her fancy; and with a jolt reminding her of her duties. "I'm not kidding, Ani, I've got a lot of work. How is this the only time you've got time for me?"

"Only… that's not true!" Anakin protested, for the first time looking significantly put off. "I've got lots of time for you, like, like — hey, if you want me around so much, how come you have no time for me now?"

"Because your timing is terrible!" Padmé replied. So much for patience. She sat down again, picking up her pen, wondering how the man she had married was so incredibly immature. "Get some clothes on, Ani. I'm sure Obi-Wan or Ahsoka or somebody could use your help with something."

"I don't want to help them." Anakin curled his lip. "They aren't the one I pledged myself to. Come on, am I that ugly? Is it my arm? Should I look into a realistic one? You married me when I had this arm, it didn't seem to bother you then. Do I bore you, is that it? Because while I don't see how that could be the case, at least would at least be some constructive criticism to go by."

"Hey, calm down." Padmé could see he was getting visibly agitated, and it made her heart hurt. Anakin had always been a very emotional, even angst-ridden guy, one who wore his heart on his sleeve: and that was part of what she loved about him. He was impulsive, but he cared deeply about her feelings. "It's not you. It's this work. There's a deal coming down soon with some of the outworlds and there's a lot of fine details to sort out before the predefined closure date."

"Is it?" Anakin scowled. "I'd happily go sort this out for you. What exactly is so important about a bunch of words on literal paper? Maybe you're thinking it's not worth it, this life of secrecy? That _I'm_ not worth it?"

_Wow._ Okay. "Anakin." She was getting annoyed with his utter lack of understanding — hell, that he even felt entitled to an explanation in the first place. He wasn't stupid. The metaphysical big picture here wasn't that big. Why did he have to be so dramatic all the time? "Put some clothes on. Leave." Two, simple, crystal clear orders. She gestured to the cloak lying rumpled on the floor. "We can discuss this later."

Anakin opened his mouth for an unknown response, but at that exact moment they both froze. There was an outside sound, there was a _knock_ on the _door_ , and then, before they could even begin to recollect themselves, the handle began to turn. Padmé's breath caught in her throat. Bail Organa was a famously skilled senator, yet when deep in thought he often had a poor habit of knocking just before busting in, without waiting for a reply. It was only a moment of silence before Padmé grabbed her husband's sleek shoulders and pushed him downwards, kicking him under her desk. Anakin grunted, but folded easily under her pressure, as if scurrying to comply. "Don't move or speak," she hissed ferociously as she plopped down too hard and too quickly onto her chair.

"Senator Amidala," Bail greeted cordially, though a mildly confused expression was on his face. "I'm sorry, were you speaking?"

"Oh, nothing. Just reading this over to myself," Padmé tried her best to sound casual. Not like she was hiding a naked Jedi under her desk or anything. She shivered under her elegant gown. She respected Senator Organa, deeply. This was one of the scariest positions she'd ever found herself in. Definitely scarier than being the target of an assassination ploy.

"Oh, yes." Bail nodded in understanding, looking down at her drafts. "The art of diplomacy. Easiest to perfection when you are able to know your audience, especially when that audience resides outside the Republic."

"Isn't it," Padmé forced a laugh. She could feel Anakin shifting positions against her leg, and resisted the urge to kick him. Now _that_ would be the worst thing she could do to redirect attention away from the big secret in the room. "It is certainly fortunate for me that you know the lord ambassador, but you said you'd come by for some pointers some time later, right?" She smiled, trying very hard to seem flippant.

"Well, I'm caught up with my work for today, so I thought I'd drop by now. I'd hate for you to have to rewrite much, when your work is so fine and you're so busy."

"Oh!" Wide smile, really push that. Was this natural? He was too nice a senator for her to deal with the aftermath of kicking him out. "That's so considerate, Bail. I really think I'm okay, though, I'm kind of on a roll right now!"

"Oh, I don't mean to interrupt your process." Organa lifted a hand apologetically, leaning to examine the letter. "Let's get right into it then."

"Well, I'd hate to interrupt your day, either." Padmé was trying her hardest to end this and seem completely casual and not-at-all like she was trying to get rid of him — which shouldn't be difficult, seeing as diplomacy was her literal line of work — but whenever Anakin was involved, all and any of her skill and wisdom seemed to go out the window.

Unfortunately, Bail wasn't stupid, and she could tell he knew that something was wrong. "I'd really love to help you, Padmé."

"No, for real, I'm fine." She laid a hand on his, trying to express her grateful sincerity to him through her eyes. _Go away, please._

"I see," Bail nodded — a terse phrase, spoken simply — yet wrought with emotion. He was concerned about her, clearly, and wondering, and a bunch of other things that she didn't know, but she could bet Anakin did with his Jedi powers. It could be annoying sometimes when he would start prattling off emotions he could sense through the Force.

"Thank you," Padmé gave a relieved little smile, sitting back slightly in her chair, grateful he was satisfied with what he could understand.

"Yes," Bail tilted his head uncomfortably. "Solitude can be quite the blessing in the field of politics! I'll write a draft in my own office for you to reference."

"Oh, I couldn't have you do that," Padmé shook her head. That was so generous, but it wasn't his fault she had a naked Jedi stashed under her desk. She couldn't make him pay for it by laying all that work on him alone. "Besides, it was important they receive this from the Nabooian senator directly. You're kind, but I'll manage." She gave an awkward half smile.

"At least let me draft together my ideas and wire you the holo-file," Bail insisted. "The ambassador is what they call sensitive individual, and we had all agreed on my help with this letter. Unless I can help with… anything else… it is the least I can do to offer my experience towards some good use."

"I just hate to feel like I'm kicking you out to go do _my_ work!" Padmé found herself admitting, even though she knew she shouldn't be. She _was_ kicking him out ASAP — it was counterproductive to even mention it.

"Hey." He reached across the table to put his hand on her shoulder for a moment, gazing kindly into her eyes. "I understand the need to be alone sometimes. You work harder than most in this Senate, Padmé, you deserve a moment to collect yourself. If you want to talk, I'm here, but during your solitude, the ambassador is one mountain I can help conquer. It's really no trouble at all." A very genuine smile graced his lips. "On this, I must insist."

"Oh… well…" Padmé didn't know how to respond. He was really understanding. "Thank you! You're too kind." She sat down, stabbing her husband slightly with her heel. He didn't so much as croak. Was he meditating? "I can't say I've written much yet, anyhow."

"Don't worry about it," he smiled, his eyes glossing over the few lines on her paper. He turned. "You just take care of yourself. That's important."

"I appreciate you, Bail," she responded embarrassingly into her desk as he left.

The moment the door was closed behind the senator, Anakin pushed his way out around her legs, stretching his back. "Phew," he muttered, and when he stood to his full height, she saw he was noticeably less erect.

"Phew?" Padmé gave that penis a hard glare. "You just made Senator Organa think I'm a hormonal speeder-wreck! Happy now?"

"Uh…" Anakin scratched his head. "Why would I be happy at your misfortune? Do I look happy?"

A long sigh seemed to release itself from her lungs. She still wasn't quite sure that had really just happened — their secret had been so close to coming out it was difficult to wrap her head around. "It wasn't some random 'misfortune,' Ani."

"I know," Anakin admitted after a pause. He looked his wife in the eye suddenly, and his hazel eyes truly looked ashamed. It wasn't easy to incur that emotion in Anakin. "You were working… I was just too desperate to see you, I failed to make myself wait. To practice patience. Patience in all things is a virtue required by the Jedi, and one that I failed to uphold this day." He lifted one of his hands towards her own, lowering his gaze. "I'm sorry, Padmé."

Oh. He didn't apologize often, but that was part of what she'd come to like about him. That way she knew that when he did say he was sorry, he meant it. A surge of affection flickered over her. "It's okay," she said, sincerely, and accepted his hand. "Just… be better."

"I guess I should go?" Anakin's voice was lilted like a question, but he looked resigned. "I sense through the Force you are still aroused… I wouldn't want to be a distraction."

Padmé blushed, looking away, wondering if that was actually a thing. Her thighs did feel warm, and the feelings brought by the sight of his body were returning as soon as her anger was disappeared. Damn his senses, the Force could be so annoying, truly. "Stay," she had to say now, sighing. She stood up. "All this writing is blurring before my eyes, I'm sure I'll better be able to face Bail and the letter at a later time." She cracked a smile, shrugging off her light shawl to drop on the pristine floor. "After all this stress, you might as well stay."

"Really?" Anakin wrapped his arms loosely around her as she pressed her lips to his firm oiled shoulder. "But our cover was just so nearly blown — I almost humiliated both of us." His words seemed more excited than cautionary. His body was reacting to hers, groping her lower back, and she could almost feel the veins of his manhood through her clothing, hard as ever as his hips swayed, pleasant sensations fracturing through her belly. She could tell he was almost teasing her with his words. It made her smile for real — with her whole body.

"Hey," she smiled against his neck, relaxing her muscles as he gently pried her high tights down about her waist. "You're a Jedi, I'm a high senator, and this is a time of war. I think that's more than cause for living a bit _dangerously_ , don't you?"

"I always did love being dangerous," Anakin breathed back.

**Author's Note:**

> _"Why should I apologize? The senator likes you." Anakin huffed, a jealous lip curled as he stared at her._
> 
> _"What? Organa?"_
> 
> _"It's obvious."_
> 
> _"He thinks of me as a daughter! A typical angsty Coruscant _adolescent_ daughter, thanks to you. He's like…"_
> 
> _"Old."_
> 
> _"You're young."_
> 
> _"Shut up. I'm big enough for you."_
> 
> _"I can't believe you think you have the right to indigence!"_
> 
> But I didn't want to make them quite so toxic. Just vastly unhealthy. There's a big difference. ;) _aka lemme know if somebody wanna see that alt ending_
> 
> No means no, kidzos.
> 
> Also, Bail definitely noticed the Jedi cloak laying on the floor.


End file.
